Grinding the Beans

I'm not a coffee drinker. At least I wasn't until six months ago when my mother in law came for a visit and never went home. After a lifetime without having made a cup from scratch, my duties as primary care provider required that I learn. The first rule of coffee preparation for Mother in law is that hotter is better. This precludes making a cup ahead of time and sliding it into position at her table place. Always wait to see the whites of her eyes. This is foreshadowed by the tapping of her cane as she enters the dining room.

"Do you have any coffee?" she asks, as though I just might have a spare pot freshly brewed and waiting. But I haven't forgotten rule number one.

With porcelain mug at the ready, I balance a filter holder on the rim and pluck a 2" natural brown Mellita from the box. Oh yeah, gotta have beans! I grab the foil bag with the rolled top and shake out a handful of beans into the grinder reservoir taking care not to overfill. On the side of the grinder is a vertical row of green lights. At first I ignored them. A week or so later, I realized this is my visual cue as to how long the grinder motor is engaged. 10 seconds for four cups; 20 seconds for eight cups; and so on. No point in protracted grinding when it isn't needed.

Ground up beans go in the filter after measuring with the v-shaped spoon. Two scoops per 16 ounces of java. I try to economize on occasion when I'm running short on beans, but Mother in law seems to be calibrated for two-scoop aroma and flavor intensity. "Dave, what's wrong with this coffee? Maybe you should dump it and start over." Second rule of coffee preparation: observe the 1 scoop per eight ounces ratio of coffee beans vs water.

Meanwhile a two-egg omelet with cheese is sizzling in the frying pan and English muffins are browning in the toaster. Mental note: don't forget to top off the coffee with a second pour and deliver to the table ahead of the meal. This reduces the likelihood of a second inquiry about coffee availability.

The critical moment comes when Mother-in-law requests a second cup of coffee. I explain that with the 16-ounce cup she has already had two. Seems as though this should be sufficient, I think to myself. When I pick up her cup from the table, I see it is still one third full. I've noticed Mother in law does not like to run low on any household commodity. "You still have a third of a cup," I say gently. She rejoins, "Yes, but it's cold and I want to warm it up." "I can heat it in the microwave," I suggest. But alas, this is not a viable option. Mother in law claims this would ruin the flavor.

I place the mug on the cutting board and, once again, balance the filter holder on the rim before adding another scoop of ground beans. Then I proceed with another pour of hot water. After it has filtered through the grounds, I return the cup to Mother in law and continue kitchen cleanup and loading the dishwasher. Later, when I'm clearing her dishes from the table I realize the refilled cup is untouched! Mother in law has returned to her bedroom. I resist the urge to inquire about coffee consumption. Apparently, she has forgotten. I decide to lay low and live to make coffee another day.